


With A Little Bit Of Magic

by rev_eeriee



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Talentswap (Dangan Ronpa), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Assassin!Ouma, Crack Treated Seriously, Denial of Feelings, Detective!Harukawa, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fear Boners, First Time, Like I think it's actually seventy percent feelings tbh, M/M, Magic Tricks, Magician!Momota, Mutual Masturbation, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, So I guess you can consider this, This all started with Momota's fear boner, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Yes you read that right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-09 01:08:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16440215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rev_eeriee/pseuds/rev_eeriee
Summary: Click. Click. Click. Click.Ouma paused. That sound again, eerily familiar. Immediately, he settled under the staircase, listening. There it was again, the sound of nosy fingers. Someone's picking someone else's door. He heard it from his room a few days ago, but now it seemed to be from someplace else. There on the far corner of the second floor, a small light flickered.Ouma didn't check. He wasn't interested in knowing. If someone's out there trying to kill people to get out, then good luck for them!The thought made him sick.He should've just gone back to his room, really. If he stayed silent (which was incredibly easy), he wouldn't be spotted. But instead he found himself walking to a door that was not his own but still familiar regardless, remembering the time its owner let him stay.---AKA. Talentswap AU. Ouma decides to spend the night in Momota's room.





	With A Little Bit Of Magic

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! So for those who don't follow me on tumblr (or those who do but already forgot this AU) he's to refresh you about Assassin!Ouma's history: 
> 
> * Talentswap AU where Ouma is an assassin.  
> * DICE are ten kids that collectively escaped from Maki’s orphanage because they hate killing and decided to live on their own  
> * At one point, they were all caught and were about to get punished for their escape attempt  
> Ouma made a deal with the higher-ups to spare the other kids because the escape attempt was all his idea, and that he was willing to be trained and make money for all the trouble they’ve caused.  
> DICE didn’t know this, and he pretended that he had sold them all out so they won’t feel bad for him, or god forbid, try to save him.  
> * Ouma just wanted all the others to live normal lives.  
> * Ouma endured the assassin training and lived to be one of the best assassins in their cult, if only because the peaceful lives of the other DICE members were always held over him.  
> * Ouma killed and killed and killed with increasing self-loathing because he was breaking his promise with DICE over and over again, but this is for their own good.  
> * To this day Ouma still kept the scarf they used to wear back in the good old days.
> 
> This one shot follows the drabble I posted on tumblr, just a few days after: https://rev-eeriee.tumblr.com/post/177263564023/oumota-21-for-the-prompt-meme-please

_These kitchen knives are fucking pathetic_ , Ouma thought, as he walked back towards the dorm after a quick midnight trip to the kitchen. The knives were small and sharp but not sharp enough—the reason why he didn't mind that he could feel the cold steel digging against the side of his leg. He'd have to create a makeshift sheath for that later, if stupid Momota doesn't take it away with his magic voodoo hands like he did all his other knives in the past. Ouma just couldn't help it: he felt unsafe without a weapon—especially since hand to hand combat has always been his weak point back in training. Sure, he could dodge around the place if someone attacks him, maybe snap a neck or two with his hands and thighs. But using his own body to kill felt... _personal_. He didn't like it—he never did. At least with tools he could pretend that it was not him doing the killing. As if he was the one controlled by his weapon and not the other way around.

Sighing, Ouma walked in the direction of his room, tempted to take out and play with the knives on his fingers the way he does when he's bored, but that would arouse concern if his fellow classmates spot him, _especially_ in light of the recent motive. Ouma scoffed, if Monokuma really wanted to expose him, he should just state it outright instead of being cryptic and saying that "one of you is not who they seem". But it all falls into that pattern that Ouma was now seeing: Monokuma wanted to make the game entertaining, for some reason. Harukawa, the Ultimate Detective, was already onto him, he could tell. She didn’t buy his whole lie about being the “Ultimate Knife Thrower”, but that could just be because she had always known there was something fishy about their orphanage.

_Click. Click. Click. Click._

Ouma paused. That sound again, eerily familiar. Immediately, he settled under the staircase, listening. There it was again, the sound of nosy fingers. Someone's picking someone else's door. He heard it from his room a few days ago, but now it seemed to be from someplace else. There on the far corner of the second floor, a small light flickered.

Ouma didn't check. He wasn't interested in knowing. If someone's out there trying to kill people to get out, then good luck for them!

The thought made him sick.

He should've just gone back to his room, really. If he stayed silent (which was incredibly easy), he wouldn't be spotted. But instead he found himself walking to a door that was not his own but still familiar regardless, remembering the time its owner let him stay. It was the first actual good night's sleep he’s had since waking up in this academy, if only because being alone always sent his senses into paranoic overdrive.

 _Stupid Momo-chan, letting an assassin into his room,_ Ouma thought, feeling a strange warmth spread in his chest. _Stupid Momo-chan, giving the same assassin a fucking key._ It blew his mind, really, the fact that the damn magician didn't even seem to know the idea of self-preservation. Who in their right mind would willingly befriend an _assassin_? Only an idiot, a big fucking idiot. Ouma didn’t even realize that he was smiling fondly.

Getting inside the room was easy.

Ouma didn't bother turning on the light. The lamp on Momota's bedside table already cast the room in acceptable brightness. The Ultimate Magician's room was always filled with many trinkets, some Momota admitted that he took out of his lab to practice. There in the bed Momota laid down, legs twisted with the sheets, mouth hanging open. Ouma giggled softly to himself. Look at him! So defenseless! Oh, the things he could do to this guy, maybe he should actually write on his face—

The realization hit Ouma with the force of a freight train.

How pathetic. Here he was again, _pretending_ that he was back in the days with DICE, _enjoying_ himself. Momota and his dumb self and his interesting magic tricks and his stupid gorgeous smile—these things bring Ouma back to being _himself_ again. He should really stop doing that, if only to preserve his sanity. Because as soon as this killing game was over, Ouma would have to go back to _that_ place again anyways. Funny how he almost didn't want the killing game to end—it was the only thing preventing him from actually _killing_.

Ouma shook his head, trying to will these thoughts away. Instead, he focused himself on Momota, thinking of all the good ways that he could teach him not to give your goddamn room key to a literal murderer. He looked around, spotting the flashlight in the corner. _Perfect_.

Taking out the knife from where he put it away, Ouma lifted the blade, turning the lamp off while he did so. He then took the flashlight, turned it on, and pointed it directly at Momota's face. Momota winced.

"Nghh..." the magician complained, turning over. Ouma tried to walk over to the other side, but he turned over yet again. Pouting to himself, Ouma lifted himself onto the bed, straddling Momota by the hips, a mischievous grin on his face as he trapped him to a position of no escape.

"Nggghhh... what..." Finally, Momota's eyes cracked open, just very slightly. As soon as he did, an urge hit Ouma. Something just to make this a little more interesting. Momota was afraid of ghosts, right? So what if he—

Momota finally opened his eyes fully. Ouma couldn't resist it, he immediately pulled the flashlight under his chin, letting the light reflect off of the cold steel of the knife as he made one of the best nightmare fuel faces he could pull. With a creepy smile that would send the devil crying for their mother, Ouma deepened his voice. "Time to die, Momota-chan~!"

" **GAHHHHHHHHH**!"

Everything happened at once. Suddenly Ouma was stumbling back from the force of Momota jolting from sheer terror, laughing as the magician stared at him with a completely _terrified_ expression. Oh god, oh damn that was hilarious! Momota looked so completely out of his mind that Ouma almost felt sorry for him, if he wasn't already busy with laughing his ass out.

Momota blinked, clutching at his poor heart, stuttering. "W-W-What was that?! Ouma, what the fuck are you doing here?!" His eyes flitted to the door, then to Ouma's knife, then to the flashlight, and even while looking completely unnerved he was able to scowl. "Oh man, fuck you. Fuck. _You._ "

"You should have seen your face!" Ouma cackled as he clutched at his stomach. He was glad that the rooms were soundproof, or else all the ruckus he has created would have alerted the sneak outside in the dorm corridors. Momota looked pale as he clutched at his chest, trying to actually calm his racing heartbeat. For a second, he looked as if he was going to say something, but he suddenly paused, eyes widening as a flush crept up his cheeks.

"Fuck you," he repeated, glaring at Ouma half-heartedly. "Y-You didn't have to do that, you know!"

"Of course I didn't have to, I didn't have to do _anything_ , Momo-chan," Ouma pointed out. Momota attempted to move his leg so as to buck Ouma off from the thigh he was still sitting on, to no avail.

“Get off," Momota said, almost pleading in its cadence, a panic Ouma didn't quite understand. "I said, get off, dammit! You've had your fun now, alright? Get out of my room!"

"What if I don't want to~?" Ouma singsonged childishly.

"I don't care what you want, you—"

"I don't want to," Ouma repeated, face blanking as he tried to relay that this wasn't up for debate, he was simply not leaving.

Momota blinked, caught off guard with his sudden change in demeanor. As much as he liked to pretend otherwise, the guy was a really big softie. He may not understand _why_ Ouma wanted to stay, but without even thinking about it, the magician was already responding. "O-Okay then..." he bit his lip, suddenly looking conflicted. "Just... get off of my leg and let me... uhhh..."

"But I don't wanna get off your leg," Ouma whined, back to being childish once again. He plopped the knife and flashlight down before he leaned down to practically lie down on Momota. "Maybe we can cuddle agai—"

Through the faint lights reflecting off the bedsheets, Ouma could see the way Momota turned ripe red in embarrassment. Something was poking at Ouma's stomach, and it wasn't a gun. Because Momota doesn't carry guns. But damn, this length could probably be considered a fucking weapon. It wasn't massive, no, but it was getting there. It would probably feel really good in _his—oh_ . Oh god, what was he thinking. Oh... _fuck_ . What the _fuck_.

"Get off," Momota practically squeaked, pleading. Ouma didn't like the way those two words rang in his head with a _very different meaning_ now. Ouma sat up, opening and closing his mouth, trying to and failing to find words. Momota just laid there, resigned as he covered his face with his arm. "L-Like I said... you can stay. Just..." the magician laughed nervously.

"Uh-huh," was all that Ouma could say in response. His head was incredibly muddled as he eased off of Momota, unable to keep himself from remembering the hardness that poked at his abdomen. _Don't make this weird, don't make this weird_ , he chanted to himself, trying (and failing) to get his head out of the gutter.

"So... fear boners...?" Ouma found himself saying, trying to make light of the situation.

"Dude, no." Momota couldn't even meet his eyes. "I mean—yes, it’s probably from earlier, yeah, but no, as in, you don't fucking start a conversation about _boners_."

 _Fair point_ , Ouma thought as he laid down at the very edge of the bed. This wasn't weird, especially since they have already shared a bed in the past. At the same time, it was _incredibly weird_ , because Ouma felt hyperaware, unable to keep himself from breathing just a little bit harsher.

For a few moments, Momota just laid there, looking uncertain. He fidgeted, like he wanted to turn away from Ouma but didn't want to be rude, and it didn't help that his boner was making a tent in the bedsheets. Ouma swallowed hard, before he took the bedsheets and pulled it over his head to hide from the world—and whoops, there it was on Momota's pajamas, silhouetted in the dim light—Ouma immediately pulled the sheets off of him. _Nope. Nope, nope, nope—_  

They laid there together for a few more minutes. The boner wasn't going away. Ouma cleared his throat. "Shouldn't you maybe... take care of that?" Ouma found himself saying. It's not like he was asking this with ulterior motives or anything! It's just that... sheesh, that must be pretty uncomfortable.

Momota looked scandalized. "T-Take care—?!"

"Cold showers, duh." Ouma deadpanned, even through his quickening heartbeat. "Or just jack it off, whatever. I don't mind, I'll turn away." Now Momota looked even more embarrassed.

"Uh, I'll just do that. The cold shower, I mean. Jacking off is... weird." Ouma frowned. What a strange choice of words. It's not "jacking off with someone else in the room is weird", it's just. Jacking off. Weird.

Momota hesitated, before he sat up, as if he was just going to the shower. Ouma ignored the stab of disappointment at Momota not pushing it further— _well_ , it's not like he _wanted_ to push further but—okay, maybe he does kinda want to, just a little. He was a healthy teenager with a healthy libido and maybe just a little bit gay for Momota, and while this wasn't his very first sexual encounter, he's still very much curious. His brain kept producing images of how Momota would look, naked and panting and begging and.... _fuck._ He realized just then that Momota was staring at him strangely, fingers clasping itself on the bedsheets. Ouma wondered if it was visible on his face, the fact that he's already quite turned on.

"What? Changed your mind?" Ouma asked, and he hated how the first part of that statement was just a little too breathy.

Momota's ears were burning. He hesitated, and hesitated... and hesitated. But finally he asked, "O-On second thoughts, you said you won't mind, would you? If I just—" he cut off, his hand trailing down his own body over the bedsheets, and Ouma's eyes instinctively followed it before he caught himself and stared at Momota's face again. "I mean... it'll probably be faster." Ouma didn’t mention how it'll also be _messier_. It was obvious that Momota was grasping at straws, trying to rationalize it, and he wasn't about to complain. He buried the side of his face closer against the bed, watching the magician intently.

"D-Don't look at me like that," Momota stuttered.

"Aww, but don't all magicians love to be the center of attention? Won't you give me a good show, Momo-chan?"

"You said you'd look away," Momota protested weakly.

"Yeah, but I think it's starting to become obvious that you wouldn't want that."

They locked eyes. Momota swallowed hard, lying back down awkwardly as he palmed himself over the bedsheets, letting out a shuddering breath that Ouma thought was _hot_. His free hand went up to his hair, pulling his bangs off his face, and Ouma couldn't help it—there's something really nice about seeing his face properly in the dim lighting. Momota moved his hand slowly, tentatively, eyes locked on Ouma's face, watching Ouma as much as Ouma was watching him.

"This is so weird," he whispered.

"Yeah," Ouma agreed. "Keep going."

That was the only encouragement Momota needed. He started kicking the bedsheets off of himself, hesitating before he pulled his pajamas down just enough to let his cock spring free. Ouma's mouth felt dry as he actually let himself look down for the first time—there it was. Hard and big with a bead of precum at the tip. He could feel his own groin stirring at the sight, as Momota grasped himself with his big calloused hands, looking incredibly self conscious.

"What, don’t poor wittle Momo-chan know how it's done?" he teased.

Momota was immediately on the defensive. "Of course I do! It's just that—it's weird and uhh.... you're staring and— _fuck."_

 

"Just get on with it," Ouma said as he started loosening his scarf, if only to feel a little less constricted. His own arousal was growing in his pants, and Momota's eyes flickered towards it before he covered his eyes with his forearm and closed his fist on his erection.

Ouma's breath hitched as Momota started to pump. There was something exhilarating about watching someone masturbate, the little sighs and little moans and the little twitches in their body, imagining the pleasure that must be coursing through their veins. Momota for the most part bit his lip to stay quiet, as if it would matter at all now that Ouma was watching him. Ouma was painfully aware of his pants growing tighter and tighter, and finally he couldn't help it anymore, he started to free his own erection too. The rustle of the cloth and the shifting of the mattress must have caught Momota's attention, because the next thing Ouma knew, the magician was now peering from under his arm, eyes wide and lips parted. "What are you... _haaah_..." Momota squirmed as a particular pump made him shudder, his hips were now bucking off towards his hand instinctively. "O-Ouma, you..."

"Not a word," Ouma warned as he touched his own cock, inhaling sharply from the electricity the touch sent down his spine. Momota pursed his lips as he watched, and Ouma felt his skin tingle. This is stupid, this is so _so_ stupid—masturbating with a guy he just met on a killing game. But at that moment, Ouma found himself unable to care. Momota seem to agree as his hand started moving faster, breaths harsher and more laboured, sending Ouma further into the fog of pleasure he found himself in.

"You know," Ouma found himself saying, before he could stop himself. "If you touched me, I wouldn't mind."

Momota groaned. His eyes darkened with lust, thrusts erratic. When he spoke his voice was strangled. "Is that.... an invitation?"

"A _request_ ," Ouma corrected, unable to keep the neediness from his tone. "Momota, _please_."

At that, Momota’s hand paused at his own erection as his eyes flitted down to Ouma's cock. Ouma shut his eyes and chanted to himself that this was not unnerving at all, that the vulnerability of the distance between their bodies didn't mean anything at all—they were just two guys who found themselves in an awkward situation fooling around in the middle of the night because it felt _good_. Surely Momota would be smart enough to see it that way too?

Momota was attractive. As were a lot of students in this academy. Ouma knew he himself was attractive too. If anything, this would be a fuck-buddy situation. The assassin surely wouldn't mind having Momota as a casual fuck, and it wasn't like this was the first time he fantasized about the problematic magical nutcase touching him this way.

When he opened his eyes, he realized immediately that he was making a mistake. Momota had a look in his eyes that Ouma would _not_ want to see in a casual fuck, a look that resembled a strange cocktail of lust, desire and a fondness—a fondness that has always been there since the day Momota befriended him, a fondness that Ouma has never felt comfortable about. Truth be told, Ouma didn't like that fondness, he'd rather have a quick brutal fuck than a slow, loving one. But this will do. This... probably wouldn't be bad at all.

"You sure?” Momota asked uncertainly, but his body language betrayed his interest. He shuffled closer, just a little bit closer, not close enough. "I mean, uh..."

Ouma finally lost it. He rolled his eyes in exasperation, impatient. "Just _fuck me_ , stupid."

"Look, even if you say that, whoaa-!" Without missing a beat, Ouma suddenly pushed Momota on his back, straddling him by the hips as he grasped him tightly by his wrists, effectively pinning him to the bed. Momota's eyes widened in alarm. This was not the first time Ouma had pinned him this way, but back then Ouma had a terrifying look of murderous intent in his eyes. Now he looked faintly more amused, eyes still twinkling sadistically, but for a different reason altogether. Momota didn't even try to break free—he already knew that trying to wriggle out of a trained assassin's grip is practically impossible. Ouma grinned smugly. "I mean, unless you want _me_ to fuck _you_."

It was already dark, but Ouma thought he saw Momota's pupils dilate just a little bit bigger. "There's lube in the drawer," he blurted. Ouma blinked, realizing just then that he had failed to consider such a basic thing as lubrication. Leaning back, he reached out towards the drawer in question, fishing out a bottle of lube which was still quite full. It was barely used, but it was interesting that someone as obviously repressed and virginal as Momota would actually care to have this in his room.

When Ouma looked back down, Momota was blushing in embarrassment. Still, he had to give the magician some credit for actually keeping eye contact. Ouma tilted his head, showing the bottle off, smiling innocently. "You didn't answer my question," he prompted. "Want me to do you?"

The question seem to make Momota nervous, as his eye contact suddenly dropped. "Uhh... I'm not... I don't know. I've never..." Ouma hummed as he waited for him to articulate himself. The magician seemed in a bit of a loss, as he struggled to form words. He took a deep grounding breath. "I've never... even touched myself... there."

Ouma shrugged. "I'm not surprised," he admitted, as he uncapped the lube and spilled a generous helping on his palm. Momota eyed his fingers with interest. Kokichi cocked his head. Truth be told, he was planning to just prepare himself, but the way Momota was staring... He leaned in close, their noses touching, breaths mingling. "Well," he started, as he pressed a kiss on his cheek. Momota's breath hitched. His hand reached down to squeeze at Momota's hips, slick fingers tapping teasingly. "There's always a first time, you know."

Momota glanced down at Ouma's cock and swallowed hard, looking daunted. "I-I'm not sure—"

"Fingers," Ouma continued, as he started kissing down his neck. "Just fingers."

At that, Momota seemed to relax. Ouma smiled, pleased. He shuffled off of him so he could sit in between his legs instead, using his hand to pry them open. "Make room for me," he said as he licked his lips, eyes locked onto Momota's erection. It was definitely above average, not nearly bigger than the biggest thing Ouma would admit he'd tried on his ass, but he was sure it'd be nice and snug and warm inside him, and just the thought was making his mouth water. Still, he forced himself to pay attention to Momota's neglected hole, watching the small pucker twitch in anticipation.

"Does this mean I'm taking Momo-chan's virginity tonight in every single way?" Ouma asked in amusement. Well, not _technically_ , as it wouldn't be his cock, but it was still fun to tease. Momota whimpered.

"J-Just hurry up already.”

Ouma reached out and massaged his pucker with his fingers, watching the way Momota tense underneath him. Momota let out a shuddering breath, his cheeks burning as he covered his face with his arm yet again, embarrassed. Ouma thought that was pretty cute. With a small smile , he held Momota's arm away from his face, leaving the magician no choice but to look up as he pushed a finger inside him. "W-What—" Momota arched his back a little bit as he squeezed his eyes shut. "A-Ah, that's weird—"

"Relax," Ouma cooed, as he leaned down and kissed his forehead. He wiggled his finger inside him a bit, almost amazed at the way it tightened against his finger. He waited for Momota to adjust, knowing that it must feel strange to have something up your ass for the very first time.

“H-Hurt… hurts,” Momota whimpered. Ouma removed his hand on his arm and settled it on his cock.

“It’s because you’re not relaxing,” Ouma told him. To guide him along, he started giving him a very light handjob, making Momota groan. He moved his finger gently inside him, looking for any signs of him wanting Ouma to pull it out, but a few moments passed without such a request. Instead Momota was letting out soft sighs, starting to look like he was genuinely enjoying himself. Ouma used that as an opportunity to be a little more explorative inside him, seeking for that one spot—

“Nggh… _ah!”_ Momota arched his back, breathing hard as he squirmed in pleasure. _Gotcha._ A small smirk graced Ouma’s lips as he started fingering his prostate in earnest, making the magician gasp and shiver in desire. He looked gorgeous like that, mouth open, eyes dazedly staring at the ceiling, letting out sounds that send shivers of desire down Ouma’s groin. The hand beating at his cock was quickly replaced by an eager mouth, and Momota keened, before shouting hoarsely. “W-Wait! Wait!”

Ouma pulled back at his request, staring at Momota, pensive. The magician had the cutest red-faced expression he had ever seen. Momota was gasping as he swallowed hard, trying to calm his racing heartbeat, trying to say something.

“I… I don’t wanna cum yet,” Momota squeaked.

Ouma burst out laughing. Momota turned even redder.

“Don’t make fun of me!” he argued defensively. “I-I… I wanna make you feel good, too.”

It was a fair point, and actually kind of adorable, the eagerness in those words. There was honesty to it that one would not find in any other people that Ouma knew, a fascinating quality that he had only seen in him- that unwavering _determination_ , probably born from the grating trial and error of learning and perfecting a magic trick- when Momota set his mind to something, he was going to do it no matter what. Whether it was to make children happy, to befriend a dangerous secretive assassin, or to pleasure said assassin in bed.

Ouma snorted. _Suit yourself_.

He let himself fall on the bed, back first, cocking his eyebrow at him. Something that said, _Well, what are you waiting for?_ If it was physically possible, Momota might have turned even redder, but instead his breathing only deepened, lifting himself by the elbow as his eyes raked up and down Ouma's body.

Ouma winced. There was that gaze again. Lustful, but fond.

 _Don't get used to it_.

Momota's hands were rough and pleasantly calloused as it slipped under his shirt, riding the material up- too slow, too loving, Ouma's heart was pounding—

He let out a laugh. It shouldn't have sounded as nervous as he felt. "Are you trying to bore me, Momota-chan?”

Momota gave him a glare as he continued on with a less _unbearable_ pace, actually sitting up to pull Ouma's shirt off his body. The assassin let him do whatever he wanted—but  it was the first time that he was handled with so much care. Usually people would just go for the gold and fuck like rabbits, but here Momota was kissing his way up his stomach and his chest and his neck and—

Magenta eyes looked down at him from merely inches apart. Noses touching, breaths mingling... Momota asked, "Can I kiss you?"

 _Yes,_ Ouma thought. "No," he replied.

Momota frowned, disapproving. "Why would your lips be off limits?"

"Why would you even ask if you're not accepting a no?" Ouma fired back, cocking an eyebrow. "No means no, Momo-chan." He closed his eyes, going on the only defense mechanism he had, running his mouth off with lies upon lies caked with disguised truths. "My lips are the purest part of my body. Only my future spouse would ever kiss these adorable lips, you know! If you kiss me now, you'll have to marry me and love me forever! Take responsibili- _aah_?" His speech was cut off with a sudden of wet lips on his left nipple, softly licking- He covered his mouth as he tried to keep in the mewls, not expecting it to feel that good—

Momota pulled back with a smug grin, licking his lips. "Hah. You liked that."

"Don't flatter yourself- a- _aah_ !" Ouma arched his back when Momota dived back down to suck at the nipple _hard_ , this time combining with kissing and suckling and occasional hints of teeth. Ouma couldn't stop the mewls and moans that left his lips as Momota continued his torture-like ministrations, a strong hand gripping his chest, thumb flicking at his other nipple, making him cry out as electricity ran through his spine and pooled heat on his groin-

"M-Momota-chaaan! You shouldn't... you-ah! S-Stop!" he begged, gripping at the bedsheets, face beet red as Momota pulled back in confusion.

"What are you even-"

"I'm the one in charge! On your back!"

"Hey, that's not fair-whoaa!”

The relief that surged through his veins as he pinned the magician underneath him _again_ was unlike anything he had ever felt. One thing he had always suspected that had just been confirmed- Momota Kaito was dangerous when given power over him. How dare he make him lose composure? How dare he make him feel so flustered? How dare he make him think about _feelings_?!

 _One of these things is not like the other_ , his mind mocked. Ouma told that part of him to _please shut up_.

Momota looked like he was trying his best not to laugh. Ouma snapped, "What?!"

"You're so _cute_."

Ouma felt the heat rise in his cheeks as he straddled him by the waist, burying his face on his chest. "Shut up or I'll slap you."

"Jokes on you, that's _totally_ my kink."

"I hate you."

Momota had the gall to laugh, but that laugh was quickly replaced with a soft moan when Ouma let himself grind against his cock, determined to throw that small moment into his growing pile of many similar instances where Momota was... _concerningly_ sweet. It was unbelievable, what the hell was his deal? Despite the fact that Ouma brandished his knives at him more times than he could count- despite the fact that he tried his best to be as unapproachable and untameable and simply just an _unbearable_ asshole- here he still ended, kissing Momota's neck as his hand reached out to find that bottle of lube.

"Stay still so I can fuck the stupid out of you," the assassin snapped, as he sat up, uncapping the bottle and pouring a generous helping on his palm. Momota watched him with wide eyes, almost innocent—but that innocence was quickly replaced by desire as Ouma lifted his ass and reached behind himself, using his fingers to prepare himself—

A sigh. Ouma licked his lips as he felt his own cold fingers pry his hole open, eliciting a soft moan from him as he felt it sink right inside him. Momota's gaze was liquid fire, searing into his skin, and he had to close his eyes as he tried his best not to melt—

God, he really was going to do this. Fuck Momota. Have sex with him. Right now, right here. Even though his heart was racing just a bit too fast, and Momota was holding his hips just a bit too gently. He was so _stupid_. God, he was so fucking stupid—

"I'm ready," he breathed, as he lifted himself to his knees, lining Momota's cock with his entrance. Ouma swallowed hard, as he watched Momota's eyes flick to where their bodies touched, his hands trembling.

 _It's Momota's first time,_ Ouma remembered.

He _slammed_ himself down.

"F-Fuck-!" Momota groaned what must have been the sudden heat and tightness, throwing his head back as his nails dug against Ouma's skin. Ouma bit his lip to stifle a moan at the way Momota's cock filled him so snugly, grinding himself further down against Momota's until their groins touched. He felt so _full_ —so _good_... He stifled the moan that was trying to make it past his throat.

He started moving. Moving, up and down, placing his hands on Momota's chest for support. Feeling every inch of him scrape along his insides- Ouma sighed. The air was filled with Momota's pants and groans simply because Ouma would not let himself make noises, Ouma would not let himself get too lost in this. This was just good. Something nice. Something casual—

Who was he kidding?

Momota's grip was strong. Ouma's breaths were getting more and more laboured.

_Who are you kidding?_

Momota felt _so_ good inside him. He could feel his every twitch and throb. Momota's cock, filling him—

 _Why are you kidding yourself?_  
  
—inside. Momota was making more and more noises, will he cum prematurely like the virgin he was? Ouma almost wanted to snicker, but there was electricity climbing up his spine and clawing at his chest, threatening to pull him apart and rip him at the seams, and it felt so good that he couldn't help the soft moan he just let out. His chest _burned_. His heart pounded, and as he looked down at the groaning Momota he couldn't help but think—

_You like him too, don't you?_

Momota's lips were red, swollen from all the biting he was doing. It looked kissable.

Stupid. Assassins don't fall in love with street magicians. That's just the rules of nature.

(In a different world where things didn't end this way, where Ouma was just a lead street rat, loved and adored by DICE, living the way they wanted to live, he could imagine meeting Momota and maybe, just maybe, they'd have a chance. But Ouma didn't dwell in maybes— _his heart hurts_ —don't say it don't admit it don't admit that you love those caring magenta eyes, always patient and determined and willing to understand your pain—

In this world, Momota was a magician and Ouma was an assassin. The one who creates happiness and the one who cuts it short. Even if he gets out he'll never escape, he'll go back _there_ , to kill, to murder, to do their bidding—just like he promised. For his beloved subordinates. For DICE—)

Ouma leaned down and buried his face in Momota's chest. He didn't think about the way his eyes blurred with tears as he bit into Momota's neck. The magician let out a gasp as he squirmed, his hips bucking back against Ouma, fucking him back, and it felt good and he felt hot and Momota's hand was exploring his back, almost soothingly—

"Mhm... mm..." Momota hummed, gasping. "Mm...mh! O-Ouma... Ouma, fuck—” He trembled as he came, and Ouma kissed suckled at his neck softly through his bliss, almost contented with that. He could feel the heat pool inside him, making him flush, but that's alright—Momota already looked pretty tired. Just tease him about cumming too soon and call it a night—  

"Ngh-ah?" Ouma gasped in confusion as Momota suddenly groped his butt cheeks, spreading him apart. As soon as his softening cock left Ouma's ass, it was replaced by eager fingers- it was so unexpected that Ouma couldn't stifle his moans, biting into Momota's neck as he continued his ministrations. The fingers inside were moving fast but careful, making Ouma pant, and when it hit that spot he felt his back arch, biting _harder_ —"Mmm-ahh! M-Momota!" Momota kept prodding on that spot, over and over, and Ouma squirmed and groaned as it sent him higher and higher, deeper into bliss. Why did his fingers have to be so big, calloused hand still kneading his ass—ah, _too much_ —

"M-Mmm!" Ouma moaned as he came hard, cum spilling all over Momota's stomach, feeling the rush of euphoria run through his limbs. Momota let out a chuckle, a laugh- one of accomplishment, like the way he does whenever he manages to steal another knife from Ouma's pocket. Ouma felt a bit of frustration build up in his chest, along with that squishy... _something_.  He thumped his fist against Momota's chest, whining. "You didn't have to do that!"

"Ow! Stop—" Despite everything, Momota sounded amused. "You're stupid if you think I'd leave you hanging." Ouma bit at his neck _hard_. The magician winced. "O-Ow.... shit, that hurt, stop it already.”

Ouma immediately sat up, grabbing his shirt and pulling it over his head. He was sticky, he felt _sticky_ , trying to ignore the buzzing remnants of the pleasure that still buzzed in groin. He sat on the edge of the bed, but he could feel Momota’s eyes watching him, a hand reaching up to touch his cheek—

“You were crying,” he murmured.

“Stop,” Ouma pleaded slapping his hand away. “Just… _shut up_.”

“Did you remember DICE again?”

Ouma swallowed thickly, _glaring_ at the magician. “Look, just because you saw my motive video doesn’t mean you _know_ me, okay? Stop acting like you do, because you don't know _anything—_ ”

“Maybe I don’t,” Momota relented, lifting himself up by the elbow, giving Ouma a concerned a look. “But I want to know you. I want to _understand_ you. And from what I can tell— you’re not as bad as you pretend to be.”

Ouma looked away.

“You’re just… someone who loves your family. Willing to do anything for them. But what about you? You’ve been neglecting yourself. You’re underestimating yourself and overestimating your enemy. DICE will be _fine._ You’re all older now. If you try to make another escape, I’m sure—”

“And if something bad happens to DICE, will _you_ take responsibility?!” Ouma yelled, angry. So many emotions swirling inside him, it was _insane._ “If something happens to my family, if one of them gets injured—o-or killed— just because I won’t be the obedient little puppet that I promised to be, will you—” Ouma gasped when he suddenly felt fingers tug at his chin, lips slamming against his. The kiss was clumsy and forceful but _unbearably sweet_ , just like Momota, and when he pulled back Ouma couldn’t help but _melt_ at the look in those magenta eyes, ever determined.

_When Momota set his mind to something, he was going to do it no matter what._

Momota grinned. “Did you forget? You got me on your side. I’m the Ultimate Magician! Magicians are meant to make people happy. _I_ will make _you_ happy! I will make you guys the _best_ vanishing trick of the century!”

“That’s assuming we even get out of here, idiot,” Ouma snapped. He didn’t want to cry again, but his tear ducts seem to have other ideas. Momota chuckled, the _irritating_ ray of sunshine that he was.

“We will! I’m sure we will! And when we do…” he trailed off, his expression softening as he raised his hand and ruffled Ouma’s hair.

“I’ll set you free, _Kokichi_.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this idea started with a crack idea of Ouma scaring Momota and Momota getting a boner, but I kinda blew it up into this 6000-word fluff, haha. I enjoyed writing it though. As you can see, this is already after Momota and Ouma going through a lot of stuff, since they keep referencing some of their previous encounters. I'm posting this now because... I might get lazy tomorrow. Lol.
> 
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> 
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